


take me as i am

by chikoo



Series: space bois [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Aliens, Alternate Universe - Space, Blow Jobs, Bounty Hunters, Finger Sucking, Gloves, Hybrids, IN SPACE!, Jeong Yunho is Whipped, Jung Wooyoung is a Brat, M/M, Please read the notes!, Size Difference, Size Kink, Worldbuilding, Yeosang is tired, wooyoung is the worst bartender here but he tries, yunho is shady!! but adorable
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25981093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chikoo/pseuds/chikoo
Summary: “You’re so-” he trails off, looking up at Wooyoung with a delectable mixture of awe and lust. “I’m going to enjoy ruining you.” Wooyoung grins at him, sly and foolish, and decides to push the limits one more time.“Is that a promise?”or,the one where Wooyoung's a bartender on a distant planet and Yunho's an enticing new patron.
Relationships: Jeong Yunho/Jung Wooyoung
Series: space bois [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1885687
Comments: 40
Kudos: 186





	take me as i am

**Author's Note:**

> HELLO THERE
> 
> so this is part of my big boi space bounty hunters sanhwa wip! those of you on twt have seen me talking about it a lot lol  
> since that's taking a while, i wanted to write a short one-shot w one of the side pairings and kinda give y'all like a glimpse at the whole thing! plus write hot yunwoo porn bc why not lol
> 
> the sanhwa is going to be a lot longer and a lot more plot oriented lol so all the worldbuilding I've done here messily will be delved into more there!
> 
> UPDATED NOTE: hi so i locked this fic almost immediately after it came out bc of all the mess on twt but i crave validation too much so I'm unlocking it lol. I've also updated the publication date which i don't normally do but bc this fic was locked and i didn't get to promo it properly I'm just giving it a mini bump if that's okay!! def not going to do this again bc i cant be bothered w changing the dates for all my fics lmao, this one is just a special case uwu
> 
> i hope you guys enjoy this one though uwu!

_Your little prince is back._

Yeosang’s muted voice startles Wooyoung so much he jumps, immediately letting go of the bottle in his hand, the metal making an awful, clanking noise as it hits the ground. He looks around subtly, trying to catch sight of Hongjoong’s long, blue braid and disapproving eyes but he doesn’t see his boss anywhere and he sighs in relief. Quickly bending down and scooping up the bottle, he thanks the aether that he’d had the good sense to screw on the lid before Yeosang had decided to make his presence known. 

He looks up and glares at the culprit in question, daintily perched on a barstool behind the counter. Yeosang’s large, glossy eyes blink back at him innocently, one small, webbed palm raised in the air in greeting. 

“Sangie, _what_ did I say about yelling in my head with no warning?” Yeosang blinks at him again and then rolls all four of his eyes, the movement immensely dizzying. 

_I didn’t yell. I never yell. I am the embodiment of propriety and etiquette._

Wooyoung snorts loudly and dredges up the very recent memory of an inebriated Yeosang, splayed across Mingi’s lap, insisting on head massages from Jongho’s mechanical arm and trilling loudly in happiness. He broadcasts it loud enough that Yeosang’s nostrils flare and he begins to blink rapidly, teal skin colouring into a dark, flushed green. 

_You suck. Now, I’m not going to tell you what your little prince is thinking._

“I do suck actually, and fantastically at that, thank you- wait, what, _he’s here?_ ” The last part of Yeosang’s threat finally registers, and Wooyoung whirls around, eyes darting around the dimly lit bar for a glimpse of familiar, peach skin.   
  


_Utopia_ is such a misnomer for this small, dusty place, sitting at the edge of Sedna’s domed city, right at the precipice of an abandoned mining compound. It’s almost ironic: Hongjoong had made sure only a certain kind of people would find their way here, the kind of people willing to get their hands dirty for a hefty bag of money. It’s relatively empty tonight; just a few, hulking mercs occupying the tables at the back and a group of Plutonians growling at each other in the corner. All in all, nothing out of the ordinary. 

“Where is he?” Wooyoung whines, completely unashamed by how needy he sounds. His favourite patron hasn’t been around for _ages_ and Wooyoung misses him, misses his infallibly bright presence, his- 

_If you think about his crotch, I swear I’ll stab you right here._

Wooyoung sighs dramatically, leaning on the counter and holding his face in his palms. He spares Yeosang a quick, shit-eating grin. 

“You can’t, my slimy friend, you’d be immediately disbarred from the Coven and Hongjoong would murder you personally,” he quips, ignoring the way Yeosang’s looking at his exposed arm like he wants to take a big chunk out of it. He totally would too, the Nired has a particularly vicious set of fangs, and a propensity to sink them into the nearest possible thing. “I’m his favourite, his adopted brother, his-”

“Pain in the ass is what you are.” San appears seemingly out of the nowhere and sags onto the barstool next to Yeosang with a huff, wincing and twitching. Wooyoung glares at him and sticks his tongue out, which San reciprocates obnoxiously. Wooyoung hasn’t seen him since Hongjoong sent him off on an assignment a week ago; something so hush-hush, he’d opted to use a scrappy, one-time-only shuttle instead of his trademark black starcraft, _Byeol._ A part of Wooyoung is innately curious but a larger, wiser part of him has learned not to question Hongjoong and the mysterious, powerful people who pay him and the Coven to do their dirty work. 

San lets out a pained groan, cracking his neck loudly and Wooyoung takes him in properly, gasping. There’s a new set of bruises on San’s cheekbone, a bloodied scrape on his chin, and a smattering of blood all over his tan tunic. He smells like mud and blood and humiliation, his thin, black tail standing straight up in the air. Wooyoung allows himself a moment of selfish pride for not following in San’s footsteps and taking up Hongjoong’s offer of being a simple bartender instead. Then again, San seems to feed off the danger, the adrenaline, sporting his injuries like medals. And although Wooyoung doesn’t completely understand it, he does understand the need, the desperation to feel powerful: something neither of them has possessed when Hongjoong found them all those years ago, two hungry, stubbornly obstinate children, keeping each other alive. 

“Wow, you look like you got your ass beat,” Wooyoung says cautiously, hiding a smile when San’s furry ears flatten and he looks more like a cowed child than a dangerous assassin. 

“I did _not_ get my ass beat,” San murmurs, lower lip jutting out petulantly and Wooyoung coos, his own fluffy tail swishing mischievously. 

“Aww baby, was it your masked merc again? Tell me he wore that cloak this time, too, what a _daddy_.” San gives him an affronted look while Yeosang mimes retching silently. 

“Do not call him that again, asshole. And yeah, it was him. He’s- I’m going to kill him next time, I swear, I almost lost the mark to him this time too. He’s infuriating, with his stupid cloak, and stupid mask! Who does he think he is?” San grouches, banging his fist on the counter. 

_I don’t know who he thinks he is, but I know you like how strong he is and how he smells like leather and musk and-_

“O-okay, thank you Yeosang, that’s enough!” San splutters, turning around and glaring at the other, the tip of his nose reddening slowly. Wooyoung cackles loudly, clapping his hands together in delight while San grumbles, sprawling over the counter and burying his face in his arms. 

“Anyway, Yeosang was just telling me about my favourite patron,” Wooyoung says, reaching out to lightly untangle the back of San’s matted hair. “Sangie, where is he?” 

In answer, Yeosang turns around and points wordlessly. Wooyoung follows his finger to a dimly lit corner of the bar, to a rickety table where he sees the back of Hongjoong’s head first, and then in front of him, deep in conversation, a familiar set of pale red horns. Wooyoung feels like he’s been punched in the chest because fuck, Yunho looks so _good._

The Titan always dresses well, dresses _rich_ , in clean white jackets, and sleek trousers, a beautiful contrast to his peach skin. Tonight he’s wearing a black coat over a low-necked white tunic that dips all the way down to almost the middle of his chest. A lumpy, glittering pendant swings around his neck, thunking against his exposed chest every time he moves animatedly. His red hair is artfully mussed up and he keeps smoothing a gloved palm over it habitually. He looks so out of place here, in a dingy, crumbling bar, with his clean face and sparkling clothes.

_He’s offering Hongjoong intel in return for safekeeping and protection. He’s practically spilling Saturn’s most well-kept secrets. Your little prince is far from pure, Wooyoung._

Wooyoung smiles slowly. Of course, despite Yunho’s pristine appearance, he truly does fit right in here, amongst the Coven, involving himself with the likes of those like Hongjoong; dangerous beings, willing to do absolutely anything to survive. It makes Wooyoung want to peel back Yunho’s shiny skin and glimmering hair and see just how much blackness lies underneath. 

“Is he now? How devious of him. He really does have a vendetta against his father doesn’t he?” San mutters, raising an eyebrow in what looks more like surprise than disdain. 

“I don’t blame him. His denouncement was publicised across the entire Pushyan sector. That’s more than twenty-seven galaxies. The Chancellor humiliated him. I’m sure there’s more than bad blood between them,” Wooyoung retorts. 

Saturn’s golden boy, the handsome heir everyone’s watched grow up, had been publicly stripped of his title by his enraged father. Wooyoung remembers watching the broadcast, remembers the stoic expression on Yunho’s face even as he’d been strapped into a shuttle and practically thrown out, the empty, blank rage in his eyes. He hadn’t begged or cried, even as his mother and his sisters wept openly. He’d disappeared off everyone’s radars for months and then, out of nowhere, he’d shown up here, in _Utopia_ of all places. 

_“I’d like to speak to Kim Hongjoong. I know he owns this establishment. And I know he leads the fellowship, the Coven. I have- I have a proposition that would be highly beneficial to him.”_

Wooyoung couldn’t keep his eyes off him, at the jewels strapped to his belt, the daggers hidden under his sleeve, the same, ruthless edge to his gaze as he spoke to Hongjoong. The little glance he’d given Wooyoung before he left had left Wooyoung reeling. He’s glad Hongjoong finds Yunho useful enough to allow him here because every time Yunho visits, it fuels Wooyoung with enough excitement to last _months._

He wiggles with newfound energy, shamelessly staring at the way one of Yunho’s tails curls around the back of his chair, lazily, intently. Unbeknownst to Wooyoung, his own tail puffs out, like a fox preparing to charge. San props his head up with his palm and huffs loudly. 

“What?” Wooyoung demands, scratching the back of his neck and looking between Yeosang and San who stare at him with twin frowns of judgement. 

_The two of you don’t even talk, just stare at each other with mopey eyes until one of you leaves._

“Of course we talk!” He exclaims and then pauses.“Wait, he stares at me?” 

“For fuck’s sake,” San groans, reaching out to flick one of the russet ears nestled in Wooyoung’s hair, ignoring his yowl of protest. “Serving him a drink and forcing him to listen to your constant warbling is not talking.” 

“ _Warbling?_ I don’t _warble_. And he said he likes listening to me! Don’t be fucking ru-”

_Guys! Shut up. He’s coming here._ Yeosang wrings his hands and makes a high-pitched clicking noise urgently.

“Who? Joong?”

_No, Yunho, dumbass. He wants to speak to you, Wooyoung._

Wooyoung squeals, heart racing. Chancing a glance up, he catches sight of Yunho’s swaying coat and immediately looks away. Humming nervously, he looks down at his own clothes. He’d dressed up a bit today, slipped on a black tunic and a flowing skirt and, borrowed Hongjoong’s boots, much to the other’s exasperation. He’d even put on a little makeup, a swipe of dewy eyeshadow and shining gloss. And he knows his tail looks plush and full, he’d groomed it just this morning, he thinks with not a small amount of pride. 

He gestures to his outfit and face and looks at his friends beseechingly. “How is this? How do I look?” 

San rolls his eyes, leaning in to plant a quick peck onto Wooyoung’s cheek. “You look great, Woo, don’t worry too much. I’m going to make myself scarce,” he says, standing up and slipping away. Yeosang tilts his head and gives Wooyoung two thumbs-ups. 

_What San said. Also, currently Yunho’s thinking about just how much he wants to tear your shirt off with his teeth, so I think you have nothing to worry about._ He informs him breezily and walks off with a little wave, ignoring the low whine Wooyoung lets out, heat rushing to his cheeks. 

Wooyoung’s hasn’t been this- _flustered_ in a long, long while. He pats at his cheeks frantically, as if that might take away the heat and redness.

“What is _wrong_ with you, you can do this, come on, you’ve sucked two Krokun dicks at once, you can do _anything-_ ” 

“Um, h-hi?” 

Yunho stands before him in all his peach-skinned, two-tailed Titan glory, giving Wooyoung a lopsided, curious smile. Wooyoung’s not sure if it’s the tight-fitted tunic he’s wearing, or the long, elbow-length gloves, _or_ perhaps the long, tapering trousers highlighting an incredibly _large_ bulge but Yunho looks unfairly good today. Wooyoung wants to climb him like a fucking tree. 

“Hey, long time no see! You look, very- very good,” he splutters, leaning against the counter in a show of nonchalance. Yunho smiles wider, the tips of his pearly fangs peeking out, and settles down on a barstool with ease. 

“You look beautiful, Wooyoung. And well-rested,” he adds, raising an eyebrow pointedly. Wooyoung flushes, remembering the last time they’d met. 

_“You’re tired. I can sense it,” Yunho says, and makes an aborted gesture with his hand as if wants to reach out and touch. Wooyoung wishes he would, wants to plant his face in Yunho’s large, warm palm and take a long nap._

_“I am, I’m exhausted. Late-night shifts too many days in a row. It’s Tannemare season, it’s always like this around this time.”_

_Yunho frowns, the little space between his eyebrows wrinkling up. “You must rest. I won’t bother you tonight then,” he announces, making a move to get up and Wooyoung panics, acting without thinking. He reaches out desperately and digs his fingers into Yunho’s shirt, tugging at it until the Titan’s forced to sit back down. Deliriously, he can’t help but make note of the hardness under his fingers, the sheer warmth of Yunho’s skin. He knew Titans run hotter than most species but so close to it, Yunho’s warmth seeps into him like the comfort of a hearth and he wants to curl himself up in a ball and lie in it forever._

_“Wait! I want you to stay, you’re the only thing I look forward to anyways,” he mutters and then squeaks, letting go of Yunho’s shirt and reeling back. “I-I didn’t mean-”_

_“It’s fine. You’re all I look forward to as well, Wooyoung,” Yunho murmurs, crimson eyes boring into Wooyoung’s._

“Ah, yeah. I am. I mean- I’m well-rested!” Wooyoung mutters, tail swishing around anxiously. He wants to catch it and stuff it down his skirt where no one can plainly see his emotions displayed in every movement of the appendage. And maybe pull a hat down over his traitorous ears too, so he can hide the way they dip downwards, burrowing in his hair. 

Thankfully, Yunho seems to take pity on him and doesn’t tease him any further and instead, slips his hand into his jacket and pulls out a small, metallic container. He holds it out towards Wooyoung, peering at him with wide eyes, and suddenly he looks less like a denounced heir out for revenge, and more like a shy puppy. It’s giving Wooyoung whiplash. 

He leans in, sniffing curiously and sucks a breath in when a divinely sweet, familiar scent reaches him. He gapes at Yunho and then the container. 

“Is that- is that ground bean cake?” He asks, disbelieving. Yunho nods, opening the container and revealing a few slices of delicious, _beautiful,_ ground bean cake, Wooyoung’s absolute favourite and notoriously hard to find. 

“There was a festival on Mars, a market, and some stalls were selling these. I remembered you talking about how much you like them, so I- yeah,” Yunho explains, voice petering out awkwardly. Wooyoung watches in fascination as the apples of Yunho’s cheeks bloom into a startling cherry red. He’s _blushing_. Wooyoung wants to suck his dick _so bad_. 

“Uh. I mean I wouldn’t be opposed,” Yunho says, blinking rapidly and Wooyoung claps a palm over his mouth, wanting very much to hide under the counter and never come out. 

“I am so sorry, fuck, I did not mean to say that out loud,” he mumbles, mortified, and hopes Yeosang hadn’t heard him. 

_Of course, I did. You are an embarrassment. Hongjoong says if you fuck behind the counter, he’s going to put you on kitchen cleaning duty for the next six months._

“You guys are literally the worst,” he mutters, knowing Yeosang will hear him wherever he is. He receives bright mirth in response and tries not to groan out loud. 

“Wooyoung, it’s okay, really. I uh- I’d really like that, actually,” Yunho’s voice brings him back and he makes the mistake of looking at the Titan. Yunho looks so earnest, eyes warm and inviting, like he’s not admitting to wanting to get his fucking dick sucked. Which, _huh_. Interesting. This is familiar territory, this is something Wooyoung can totally do. 

He places his elbows on the counter and leans forward, resting his chin on his palms and slowly, deliberately tilts his head, looking up at Yunho with big, coy eyes. Then he smiles, wide and teasing. 

“You would, huh? Have you thought about it often?” He takes immense delight in the way Yunho’s cheeks colour again. “Have you thought about me sucking you off before?” He presses, and his breath hitches when Yunho seems to gather himself, eyes narrowing. 

“Of course I have. You talk so much, too much, I can’t help but think of how much I want to shut you up with my fingers or my cock, ” he murmurs, quietly, purposefully, holding Wooyoung’s gaze with intent. A deep, searing heat makes itself known in Wooyoung’s abdomen.

“I don’t talk _that_ much,” Wooyoung says reflexively, mouth shaping the words before he can even process what Yunho just said, pouting. Yunho laughs, a full-bodied, loud laugh, throwing his head back. It feels just a tad bit like condescension and Wooyoung’s face burns. 

“Mhmm,” is all Yunho says, and then sets the container still in his hand down onto the counter, pushing it towards Wooyoung. “Why don’t you be good and try what I brought for you?” 

The casual, commanding way he says it makes Wooyoung shiver just a little. But not enough to make him any less shameless. He cups his cheeks with his hands and flashes Yunho a sunny, impish smile. 

“Why don’t you feed me?” 

For a moment, he thinks Yunho’s about to refuse, the way he just stares wordlessly at Wooyoung. Then he picks up a slice of cake, not bothering to remove his gloves and holds it in front of Wooyoung’s mouth. Wooyoung bends his head forward and takes a little bite, jolting a little when Yunho’s other hand comes up to cup his jaw. The sweet, syrupy flavour bursts on his tongue and he doesn’t bother to stifle the pleased little groan that comes out, eyes fluttering. 

Yunho’s fingers tighten on his jaw, pressing in firmly. “You can take a bigger bite than that,” he says, voice pitched so low Wooyoung almost gasps. His eyes flick up to Yunho’s, taking in the way he’s looking at Wooyoung’s mouth with open want. Wooyoung opens his mouth wider and allows Yunho to stuff in the entire slice, the smooth warm leather of the glove resting against his tongue. He doesn’t let go of Wooyoung’s face, watching him chew, cheeks puffed out, waiting till he swallows it all down. 

“There you go. How was that?” 

An airy, small, “Good,” is all Wooyoung can manage, painfully aware of the way Yunho’s fingers still rest against his mouth. Yunho smiles at him, wide and sharp, and taps his fingers against his mouth. 

“Can you clean me up?” Wooyoung’s about ready to jump into the aether, _fuck._ He nods slowly, and opens his mouth, sucking down Yunho’s fingers with ease, humming around the warmth, so palpable even through the gloves. The texture feels a little strange against his tongue but he doesn’t particularly mind, revelling in the scent, the taste of leather and sweetness. He brings a hand up to hold Yunho’s wrist, angling his head and suckling at his fingers all the way down to the knuckles. He probably looks obscene, _sounds_ obscene, but he’s a little too preoccupied with the weight in his mouth to care. 

He pulls off a little and lets his tongue dart between his fingers, lapping at them until there isn’t a speck of cake left. When he’s done he pulls back and looks at Yunho expectantly, slowly becoming aware of the heat pooling in his groin, the little tent shaping his skirt. 

Yunho’s face is unreadable, but Wooyoung can smell the sheer arousal, emanating from him in waves, can see it in the way his tails come up and tap restlessly against the glass of the counter, sharp, pointed tips making a clicking noise. The way his eyes are darker than anything he’s ever seen before, a deep, mesmerising wine red. Wooyoung is suddenly immensely glad the bar is as empty as it is. 

Yunho glances at his gloved hand, shining with Wooyoung’s spit, and flexes his fingers, assessing. 

“You’re so-” he trails off, looking up at Wooyoung with a delectable mixture of awe and lust. “I’m going to enjoy ruining you.” Wooyoung grins at him, sly and foolish, and decides to push the limits one more time. 

“Is that a promise?”

It takes Yunho precisely a second to absorb Wooyoung’s words before he stands up, walks around the counter and towers over Wooyoung, pressing him back against it. Wooyoung doesn’t know how he hadn’t realised just how _tall_ the other is, more than a head taller than him; Wooyoung’s head barely reaches the top of his chest, _fuck._ He has to crane his neck back to look up at him, he’s so deliciously close. Yunho feels like he’s burning, body so warm, it’s like standing in front of a radiator. 

Like this, Yunho looks- terrifying: long, carved horns casting dark shadows across the planes of his face, red eyes staring down at him and pinning him in place. Wooyoung opens his mouth to say something but nothing but a tiny, aborted whine comes out. Yunho smiles indulgently, and places his hands on the counter, on either side of Wooyoung, boxing him in. 

“You really don’t know when to stop, do you? Even when you’re so desperate and needy, you’re still running your mouth.” 

Wooyoung bristles, keeping his eyes trained on the pink jut of Yunho’s mouth, the almost delicate dip of his cupid’s bow. “I’m not,” he protests and jerks when Yunho chuckles, the sound resonating in the little space between them. 

“I can smell it, Wooyoung. I can smell just how much you want me,” He presses the tiniest bit closer, gently pushing his thigh between Wooyoung’s and brushing up against his erection. Wooyung hisses and bucks his hips up, so painfully hard the slight amount of pressure feels divine. 

“Fuck, Yunho, I want-” He bites his lip, rolling his hips against the Titan’s thigh again, whimpering when Yunho bends lower, cheek grazing against his. Suddenly, Yunho wrenches away from his body, and he shivers in the sudden lack of warmth. 

“Not here. Come with me?” He holds a hand out and Wooyoung takes it with glee and not an ounce of guilt about leaving the counter unmanned. Eh, Hongjoong will manage for one night. 

Yunho leads him outside to the tarmac where a number of starcrafts sit, guiding him to one in the corner, a sleek, large white one, expensive and streamlined, and very clearly Yunho’s. 

Yunho pulls open the door and gestures at Wooyoung to go in first. 

“She’s mine, don’t worry. Her name’s _Twilight_ and she’s very comfortable. And very spacious,” he adds the last part on for incentive and Wooyoung jogs up the stairs and inside quickly. The inside is incredibly spacious: the cabin wide and slotted with seats on either side, the stern opening out into the cockpit and a _holodeck._

“A holodeck? On a C-Class craft?” Wooyoung can’t quite hide the surprise in his voice. 

Yunho shrugs, walking in and flicking on a few switches, flooding the cabin with light. “I saved up some money and made some improvements,” he says casually, not suspicious at _all._ Wooyoung doesn’t press, snorting, and makes his way to the cockpit, sprawling onto one of the seats with delight.

Laughing, Yunho follows suit, sitting down next to him and nudging at his foot playfully. Wooyoung takes him in, the length of his body, how casual, how confident he looks sitting in the captain’s seat with his legs sprawled. In the quiet stillness of the cabin, Wooyoung feels like his heart beats far too loudly, pulse thrumming under his skin restlessly. 

For a moment, the silence is overwhelming and it makes Wooyoung impatient. Then Yunho pats at his thigh in invitation and Wooyoung scrambles, clambering onto Yunho’s lap with ease, sighing in relief when he presses up against all that hard warmth again. Throwing his arms around Yunho’s neck, he leans forward cautiously and presses a kiss to one of Yunho’s fiery horns, pausing when Yunho stills under him. Then Yunho slides his palms up Wooyoung’s sides, fingers bunching up his shirt, and back down, coming to rest at the top of his ass. He tilts his head up and slowly, brushes his lips against Wooyoung’s, waiting. Wooyoung smiles and pushes into the kiss, open-mouthed and filthy, mewling when Yunho’s tongue presses against his, the heat so intense, the inside of Wooyoung’s mouth feels like its sizzling. 

It’s like the heat’s lighting his body up from the inside, molten liquid cascading over his skin, and he can’t help the way he shifts and twitches, getting up on his knees a little and grinding against Yunho’s abdomen, mewling at the intense pleasure it gives him, his cock so unbearably hard. 

Yunho’s palms slide down to his ass and grope, the thin material of his skirt a flimsy barrier between his naked skin and Yunho’s strong hands. He tears his mouth away from Yunho’s and gets off his lap, settling down on the floor on his knees, shaky fingers reaching out to undo Yunho’s belt. A hand stops his and Wooyoung glances up in confusion. 

“What? I thought you were gonna ruin me?” He baits and Yunho’s hand squeezes his in warning. 

“Brat,” he whispers indulgently and then sobers. “Wooyoung, I’m not- I may not be what you’re used to.” 

“Uh, I think you’re underestimating just how much I’m used to,” he bites back but Yunho’s hand doesn’t budge. 

“No, I mean- I’m quite-” He stops, licking his lips in frustration. 

“Large? Wide? In multitudes? Squiggly? I’m serious, dude, I can _handle_ it,” Wooyoung mutters, pushing Yunho’s hand away and undoing his belt quickly, pulling down his trousers and gasping because-

Yunho’s cock is _glorious._ It’s massive, what the _fuck,_ Wooyoung has no idea how he was hiding that in his pants (“I’m a grower”, “Fuck yeah, you are”). It’s a beautiful red, a tad bit darker than Yunho’s skin and possibly the length of Wooyoung’s forearm, widening out into a knot the size of his fist at the base. Deep grooves of ridges line the sides, all the way up to the top. When Wooyoung touches it, he almost moans because his little fingers barely meet around its girth. Wooyoung can already imagine sitting on it, how well it would stretch him out, how deep it would go, till his _stomach_ bulges out with it. 

Wooyoung looks up at Yunho, wraps both his hands around his cock and, gives him the sweetest look he possibly can. 

“I want you to choke me on your cock until I’m crying.” 

Yunho gapes at him, blinking rapidly but before Wooyoung can even whine in annoyance, he grabs the back of Wooyoung’s head, fingers curling into his hair, pulling him forward and holding his cock out with his other hand, tapping the head against Wooyoung’s mouth. 

“Go on then.” It’s all the permission Wooyoung needs to stick his tongue out and lap at it, moaning at the searing heat. He pumps his palms up and down the length while licking and suckling at the head, unbelievably turned on because he hasn’t had to use both his hands like this, in such a long time. It makes him feel small, pliant in a way not many people can get him. 

Slowly, he wraps his lips around the head and sucks, humming happily at the pleasant, salty taste. He’s so focused, so consumed, he’s barely aware of the way Yunho’s playing with his ears, massaging the smooth fur and scratching at his scalp. It’s as if nothing exists except for the cock in his mouth. He hollows his cheeks out and pushes his head down, getting to just a little below the head before the corners of his mouth begin to twinge with pain. He frowns. That won’t do at all. 

Relaxing his face, he takes in more, slowly, cautiously, until his mouth’s so obscenely stretched, he can feel drool falling from the sides and his lips burn with the stretch. 

“You can’t take all of me, baby, it’s okay,” Yunho reassures him, thumbing at his cheek comfortingly. Wooyoung makes an indignant, high-pitched sound of pure spite and frustration, making Yunho laugh. He pulls off, gasping and wiping at his mouth, and pats Yunho’s thighs. 

“Fuck my mouth,” he pleads, opening wide and waiting, staring at Yunho with big, teary eyes. Yunho cups his face and then holds the back of his hair, keeping his head in place. He guides his cock into the wetness of his mouth, fucking in with short, shallow thrusts. He’s being careful, too careful for Wooyoung’s liking, and Wooyoung glares up at him, humming furiously around the cock in his mouth. 

Yunho scoffs, yanking at his hair in admonishment, ignoring the way Wooyoung whines in pain, and thrusts faster, harder, bringing Wooyoung’s head lower, until his cock is stretching his mouth out so much his cheeks hurt. 

“Such a fucking brat when you don’t get your way,” Yunho mutters, “Look at you practically whimpering in pain and yet you smell like you’ve never been more aroused. Like you can’t get enough.”

And belatedly, Wooyoung realises the constant punched out, needy mewling is coming from _him_ , muffled and pained. Wooyoung’s whole face is buzzing, his head light and airy, and he tries to keep himself grounded in the way Yunho grasps at his hair, in the ache in his jaw, and the spit seeping down his chin.

At some point, Yunho slows and pulls Wooyoung’s head away, and Wooyoung gasps, chest heaving, spit smeared all over his mouth, leaking onto Yunho’s trousers. He feels flushed, burning hot and dazed, can barely see Yunho straight. He vaguely registers Yunho’s fingers brushing at his cheeks, wiping away spittle and tears gently, and Wooyoung presses his face into the touch, still panting heavily. 

“Why-Why’d you stop? I want to make you come,” he slurs, delirious, leaning in to try and mouth at Yunho’s cock again. Yunho tuts and stops him, lifting his chin up and forcing him to look him in the eye. 

“You can, hey, don’t worry, I just want to-” he gestures awkwardly and Wooyoung wonders, amused, how Yunho can finish skull-fucking him and then act all shy and embarrassed immediately after. 

“Can I mark you? On your face, I mean,” Yunho asks softly and Wooyoung lights up, nodding furiously and parting his lips, opening his mouth as wide as he can with how sore his entire face feels, eyes fluttering shut. He knows how he must look, lips swollen and bruised, eyelashes clumped up with tears, nose pink and cheeks stained with running makeup. He wants to tell Yunho, _see, see how messy you make me, how nasty._

He can hear Yunho moan, breathing hitched, hand pumping at his own cock desperately, and with a short warning, he comes with a long, high-pitched whine, spurting all over Wooyoung’s face and chest, into his open mouth. Wooyoung swallows automatically, swiping the come off his cheeks and nose and licking it off his fingers. Yunho tastes good; salty and warm and something inexplicably _him._

“Fuck, such a _good_ fucking baby,” Yunho mutters, wiping at Wooyoung’s face sweetly and pulling at his arms, coaxing him back into his lap. Wooyoung settles down with a pleased hum, body thrumming with an easy, lazy kind of arousal and when Yunho flips his skirt up and wraps a hand around his cock he writhes, head thunking onto Yunho’s shoulder, hips bucking up into Yunho’s fist. 

“Mmm, Yunho, feels- fuck, make me come, please,” he whispers, pressing his words into Yunho’s clothes, rubbing his nose restlessly against the jut of his shoulder when Yunho shooshes him tenderly and fists his cock just a little faster. 

Something comes up to his throat, something thick and wiry and Wooyoung shakes when he looks down to see one of Yunho’s tails wind around his throat, coiling around and settling like rope against his sensitive skin, the sharp tip pressing into the underside of his jaw, just enough that Wooyoung’s aware of its presence. It’s so much- the implications of it, the casual possessiveness, the weight around his neck, bearing him down, keeping him close, and Wooyoung comes with a shout, biting at Yunho’s shoulder, shuddering and quivering in his arms. 

Yunho holds him through it, rubbing his back and pressing indulgent kisses to the crown of his head, waiting till Wooyoung’s body calms and he sags against him, sated. 

“You know I used to wonder how someone as pure as you found your way in a place like this, surrounded by killers and thieves,” Yunho murmurs, a heavy satisfaction in his words, massaging between Wooyoung’s shoulder blades absently. “But you’re not, are you? You’re just as filthy as the rest of them, just as filthy as I am, perhaps even more so.” The words should be insulting but Yunho says them with so much awe, so much deliberation that it makes pride and arousal swell up in Wooyoung. 

“Strange, that’s exactly what I used to say about you,” Wooyoung replies airily and loses himself in the wide, knowing smile Yunho gives him.

**Author's Note:**

> please do leave a kudos/comment if you liked this, i love to hear what y'all think!  
> you can find me on twt @fightmehyuk


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